


The Good Karma Hospital

by TheProdigalSapphist



Category: The Good Karma Hospital
Genre: F/M, First In The Fandom, Fluff, Little bit of sex, Tiny bit of Angst, the good karma hospital - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24682972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProdigalSapphist/pseuds/TheProdigalSapphist
Summary: Greg and Lydia have been dating for years, but are either of them ready to take the next step?
Relationships: Lydia Fonseca/Greg McConnell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	The Good Karma Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> I really like this show, and the one thing I like in particular (except for it being set in India) is the relationship between these two characters. They seem very real. Also Lydia is a great character - finally some interesting roles and representation for women over 50.
> 
> I’m also from the same area in the UK as Greg so I appreciate that bit of representation too :D
> 
> When I tried to search for fics or fandoms about this show I came up with only a few hits so decided I needed to write something. 
> 
> I’ve tried to weave in their dialogue and backstory so hopefully those who aren’t familiar with the programme will be able to enjoy this. Some of it I’ve made up (like how they met) but most of it fits alongside the show’s narrative. It’s set where season 3 left off.

Greg was amazed that he didn’t start having the greatest sex of his life until he turned 50. That was the year he’d met Dr. Lydia Fonseca - the gloriously frustrating, passionate and yet, when she was with him, the increasingly vulnerable love of his life. He’d known the authoritarian Dr. Fonseca first of all; seen her around Barco shouting orders and terrifying the locals. He didn’t actually meet her until a few months later when she’d leapt into action to save the life of a tourist who’d taken ill at his beach bar. Dr. Fonseca was effortlessly magnificent. Once she’d saved the day and the make-shift ambulance had taken the patient back to the hospital for observation, Greg decided it was time to introduce himself.

“Dr. Fonseca, Greg McConnell - nice to meet you.” He held out his hand in greeting.

She ignored him and continued to pack up her medical bag. He pulled his hand back and put it in his shorts pocket.

“Not one for small talk then. Or handshakes apparently.”

He noticed the way the afternoon sun hit her blonde hair - she looked radiant. He decided to push on. 

“Alright, how about a drink then? You must be thirsty after all that life saving.”

He caught a barely there smile which she quickly hid. Of course he’d be able to win over a fellow Brit with alcohol. After a few seconds Lydia finally acknowledged his existence and looked up.

“Do you have pink gin by any chance?”

“For you Dr. Fonseca; anything. Except pink gin unfortunately. Can I tempt you with a good old fashioned gin and tonic instead? On the house of course.”

She looked up and down the beach before considering his proposal.

“Go on then.”

He beamed at her.

“But only one.” She protested as they headed back to the bar.

Of course it hadn't been just one though - it had been several. After an evening alone at the bar filled with shameless flirting, laughter, alcohol and sexual tension, she ended up in his bed. He felt like the luckiest man in India! That’s until the next morning when she left before he woke up. He thought that was the end of it; their one night together would be it… until she turned up at his place a few days later with those ravenous ‘come to bed’ eyes and that coy smile of hers. She didn’t need to use words to explain what she wanted. 

And that's the way they’d continued for years. She called it their ‘mutually beneficial arrangement’ but to him it was always more than that - she’d always meant more to him than just sex. After just a few short weeks into their arrangement he knew he’d fully succumbed to ‘Lydia-fever’ as AJ called it. He couldn’t pretend to understand but there was something about her - some addiction, some....obsession? No that wasn’t it. She was like a fine wine, a rare vintage that he knew was unique and precious, but difficult to get the cork out of and not to everyone’s taste. You had to work hard to get to the precious nectar. 

She’d given him a key to her place about a month into their arrangemeant and he'd wait in her bed for her to come home after long shifts at the hospital. This key came at a high price though; no one was allowed to know they were anything more than acquaintances. Over the years he’d become adept at pretending there was nothing between them in front of her colleagues and his customers but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He wanted to tell everyone in India about the woman who stole his heart but she flat out denied him from doing so. At least agreeing to her terms got him into her bed. 

Though she’d always maintained that whatever they were doing was just sex, and she had plenty of other options when it came to suiters, night after night she came home to him. He’d increasingly caught her gazing at him or felt how she’d hold him a little tighter than two people having casual sex were supposed to. Still, the mask of Dr. Fonseca was firmly back in place once she left the safety of the bedroom; she was a different person in the daylight. A few times he’d stuck around in the morning to make her breakfast and she’d always shrug him off. Even though he’d felt it for years, he’d never once told her he loved her - too scared that he would spook her. So he endured the mean jibes she’d throw at him about his personal hygiene or drinking or intelligence, and try to not look too disappointed when she claimed to be ‘too busy’ to spend quality time with him. Having to leave incognito when a friend unexpectedly called by her house really hurt though, and she knew that - she’d seen his face when she told him to go. At the beginning he thought being the great doctor’s dirty little secret would be fun, but the reality was very different. He’d finally expressed his hurt when she refused to let him drop her off at the entrance to the hospital so she wouldn’t be seen getting out of his car. Why weren’t they doing this for real? They were two consenting adults who’d shared a bed practically every night for the last three years. Why did they have to hide that? It was ridiculous. The very thing that had caused him to flee England for India had been his unwillingness to commit to relationships, yet here he was on the other side of the world loving a woman who was too scared to commit to him. Was she ashamed of him?

She’d finally shown her commitment when it mattered. After years of only existing behind closed doors this astounding woman had blindsided him with her sudden, and very public, declaration of their relationship to everyone assembled at his bar. She hadn’t said ‘mutually beneficial agreement’ but ‘relationship’. Not only was she ready to reveal the truth about ‘them’ but she’d sweetened the deal by telling everyone gathered he was great in bed. “Objectively the best I’ve ever had” were the exact words she’d used. At least they knew Dr. Fonseca was having her ‘needs’ met? He was surprised (in a good way) that she’d announced it, especially so publicly, but he was more than ready to finally, and fully, be hers.

That had been slow progress though. After three years of keeping him a secret Lydia was still ferociously protective of their privacy. It was like she felt overly exposed by people knowing she was in a relationship; like she didn’t want anyone to know she had a weakness, an Achilles heel called Greg. He remembers a rocky patch they’d gone through last year. After consoling a friend who had lost his wife and now couldn’t imagine a future without her, he’d started to question his relationship with Lydia. After all, when he’d needed her help with his friend Paul she’d just walked away. So, after digging into his innermost psyche, he’d gone to her office and admitted he was jealous of the grieving Paul because he knew that she, Lydia Fonseca, would never feel lost without him. She was stunned, but agreed; she didn’t need him - she didn’t need anyone - but she still chose to be with him. Wasn’t that enough?

It struck him how much she’d changed since then. That hesitation, that...what was it? Reserve? That unwillingness to let anyone see that she possessed actual human emotion had slowly evaporated. She’d begun to make more time for him and finally they’d started to feel like a true partnership. At night they’d sit on the sofa together and share a bottle of wine, him often rubbing her tired feet. They were comfortable. Of course, he still enjoyed the fear she struck in the hearts of others - he’d always loved that fire - although the hot-headed woman who bossed everyone around in her hospital wasn’t the woman he knew anymore - now he knew Lydia. Lydia who slept in his arms each night; Lydia who confessed her worries and thanked him for keeping her sane; Lydia who would now kiss and touch him in public; Lydia who had decided she was finally deserving of his love. 

It was like she had made an active decision last year to fully let him in. Where previously she’d manipulate him into spending time with her when she was low, now she was no longer afraid to say when she needed him. Over this last year he’d been met with a tidal wave of love from her and he stood on the shore with his arms wide open and ready for it to wash over him. His Lydia was pure love nowadays. Sure they’d still bicker and fight (and he loved that their relationship always kept him on his toes) but he was honoured when she’d ask his advice or seek out his comfort. She trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him. He understood now that much of the Dr. Fonseca they saw at the hospital was a disguise. The unapologetic, assertive and authoritarian woman on the ward actually felt every loss and mistake very deeply. He’d seen it overwhelm her at times, and when it did they’d sit on the beach together and stare at the waves until the sun went down. The tough, hardened public persona became a sensitive and devastated woman in private who would cry in his arms when cases got just too hard. 

Once they started living together full time he’d been shocked by how insecure she could be. Recently she asked (quite out of the blue) if the large scar on her arm bothered him when they first met. Honestly, he hadn’t really noticed it - she covered it up more back then - but he’d always seen it as a sign of inner strength. He’d understood her increasingly short-sleeved clothes to be a sign she was feeling happier in her own skin. He hoped he’d been part of the reason she felt more confident about her body - he sure worshipped it whenever possible. She once asked him why he stayed with her, said there must be loads of available women for a handsome devil like him, so why her? He answered her in song lyrics: nothing compares, you are my one and only, I was born to love you. A few months later she told him he could do better than her; simpler than her. Then after their rocky patch she’d asked him if she was worth it. Did she really need to ask him that? After all these years she still seemed to be surprised that he still loved her. Sure she wasn’t an easy person to love but that was a significant part of her charm. He didn’t want her to change and he didn’t want simple - he wanted her. Oh, and she was definitely worth it. 

And now here she was in their bedroom; naked and riding him hard. She'd always been loud during sex, even from the very beginning (yet another thing about her that he adored). But with his daughter Tommy and his grandson Ben currently in their guest room for the foreseeable, they both knew she'd have to be quiet until they had their house back. Tonight though, Lydia was having a hard time stopping herself from crying out. He’d purposely wound her up all evening with little indecent touches whenever no one was looking and she’d practically ripped his clothes off once they were finally alone in their bedroom.

“Shhh Lydia.” He whispered. “You’ll wake the kid.”

“Ben. You’re grandson’s called...”

He changed the position of his hips slightly and she bit her lip in an attempt to hold back how good it felt.

“Oh, Christ, Greg.” She steadied herself by placing both palms on his chest.

She continued to grind herself on him as he sat up and dared to swirl his tongue around her nipple, fully knowing how sensitive she was there. Teasing her was so much fun when they both knew she couldn’t make a noise.

“Oh, oh!” She held a hand over her mouth, failing to dampen the sound.

He moved his attention to her neck, nipping and kissing her delicate skin whilst he rubbed small circles around her clit. Her movements became more frantic. 

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t…” she tried to whisper.

Her fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulders - he knew she was close. 

“Good girl, that’s it.” 

After a few seconds she buried her face in his neck and let out a low moan of pleasure, with his release following shortly after. They stayed like that for a few minutes, slowly rocking and holding the other tightly until they got their breath back. He wasn’t sure if it was the come down he enjoyed the most when they had sex, when Lydia was spent and sated in his arms, or was it that little giggle she often made when he started to undress her? Maybe it was how she’d throw her head back in pleasure when he hit her favourite spot just right? He couldn’t decide. To be honest, he loved everything if she was involved. 

She pushed her hair back with one hand and used the other to pull him into a slow, deep kiss. She moved back slightly and brushed her thumb over his cheek.

“Marry me, Greg.”

She hadn’t just said that, right? He was dreaming. He’d obviously just experienced some kind of sex related brain injury.

“What?” He asked.

She smiled at him, peppering his face with kisses.

“You heard. I said marry me.” Her voice a rich, sultry whisper.

“Lydia...I’m still inside of you.”

She laughed. “So, what do you say?”

He was stunned. “What do I say? I say this isn’t the kind of thing you expect someone to say right after sex.”

“I think it's the perfect time.” 

“Lydia, I can barely remember my own name right now. Give me a minute.”

He felt her suddenly revert back to Dr. Fonseca.

“Right. Alright.” She huffed, climbing off him and heading for the bathroom.

“Lydia! Come on, the blood hasn’t had time to reach my brain again yet!”

Their bed suddenly felt astoundingly empty. He threw off the covers and followed her into the bathroom, finding her stood over the sink in her dressing gown. As he approached, she turned toward him and he saw the flash of fire in her eyes that he both loved and feared. Feeling exposed, he grabbed his own dressing gown.

“You caught me off guard.” He offered.

“It’s fine.” She waved him away casually with her hand.

He may not be the brightest bloke, but he knew this was anything but fine. They had to talk about this. 

“I thought you were against marriage? You laughed the last time I broached the subject.”

He doubted he’d ever forget the time he put his foot in it and talked about marriage merely weeks after they’d moved in together. 

“I thought you were joking!" She replied. 

They hadn’t talked about marriage since then - it just hadn’t come up. He knew she’d been married before (Fonseca wasn’t her maiden name) and knew she’d woken up one day and he’d gone, hearing nothing from him since except divorce papers in the post. He’d punch the bloke for breaking her heart if he ever met him. Right, this was it. Big breath:

“Why now, Lydia?”

She looked at the floor, just for a second whilst she considered the question.

“I think…” She paused, unsure of how to continue. Dr. Fonseca lost for words? This was new. 

“It just feels right.” She said. “We’re all here together in the house, this little family. We could get married on the beach before monsoon season starts, go back to the bar for the party...”

It was exactly the same wedding Greg had always imagined - simple and very ‘them’. He smiled. She smiled. 

“So…?” She asked. “What do you say?”

Greg stood there, like a rabbit in headlights. He put his head in his hands and tried to muster up the words (and courage) he needed. 

“Right, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything…” Lydia crossed her arms - defences up. 

“But I’m going to say no.” He continued.

She looked like he’d just pissed on her chips.

“No, wait Lydia. Shit. That’s not what I mean!”

Right, how to explain this to her…?

“Lydia, I would be honoured to marry you.” Greg thought he saw her eyes soften a tiny bit, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He continued:

“I just ever expected you to ask me. So...Tommy and I, well, we were planning something. You know, planning how I would… ask you. And she, well we both did, had this idea. But now, you turn around and…”

“Ruin your plans?”

“Well, yes actually, Lydia.”

She closed the distance between them and hugged him tightly, catching him off guard.

“In that case, and in what could be considered a wholly unfeminist act, I retract my proposal. Seeing as you already have a plan.” She said into his chest. “You are ridiculous yet utterly charming Mr. McConnell.”

He leant down and kissed her. She smelt of hospital, of India, of sex and of, well, Lydia. He took the opportunity to kiss her neck, pulling her dressing gown aside on her shoulder to reveal more of that golden skin. Who knew he’d be charmed by the greatest, and possibly the most feared, woman in Barco? She’d become his entire world. 

“‘I kissed her neck and shoulders. I felt faint with loving her so much.’”

“You’re quoting Hemingway again, aren’t you? I knew I’d regret buying you that bloody book.”

He traced his finger along the lines of freckles on her shoulder that reminded him of the big dipper.

“Lydia, I love you more than a lowly bloke from Stourbridge could ever love another human being.”

She laughed at that - her warm, grounding laugh. And then, without hesitation, she announced: “‘I’m awfully difficult but I do know when I love someone. And I’ve loved you ever since I can remember’”.

He pulled her closer and kissed her again.

“Just when you think she couldn’t get any better, she quotes Hemingway at you.”

With that she smiled before taking his hand and pulling him back into the bedroom. Just a few feet away from them, currently hidden away in his underwear draw, was the engagement ring he’d been planning to give her that weekend. Later on that night when Lydia was sound asleep next to him, Greg decided he’d continue with ‘Operation Proposal’ as planned.

The next weekend, with all their friends and family gathered at Greg’s bar, he knew it was the right time. At the place where they’d met for the first time, the place where they’d first kissed, the place where Lydia had publicly declared her love for him, and the place where they loved nothing more than sharing a cold beer with friends, Greg got down on one knee and asked Dr. Lydia Fonseca to marry him.

She said yes.

They celebrated with pink gin.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re a Good Karma fan and know of other fics or fans please let me know!
> 
> I’ve already written a follow up to this fic which explores Lydia’s backstory as I think there’s a lot that is alluded to in the show which hasn’t been revealed to the audience yet. I’m filling in the gaps :)


End file.
